Today marks eleven.

Eleven months now spent marking the day, raising a glass, looking out for the brightest star, fumbling with the angel wing I have to remind myself of you, or just taking a few minutes to allow myself to feel sad and not feel ashamed of it.

I’m in real disbelief still, in regards to how quick the time passes. I still don’t feel good or at ease about it. It is not something that gets any easier, not for me anyway, perhaps so for him, I imagine so. But me? Having had you with me for nearly two months, yes timing and circumstances were not on our side, but Christ above did I feel maternal, even without having met you. 

I will be so honest here, it still breaks my heart into absolute pieces. It destroys me that I was not strong enough, not strong enough to do right by you, by me. Yes, I hate that your anniversary makes me think about him, baby, but then I remember, he never felt you. At the time, having two months of awful morning sickness made me angry, but now I think back and smile. I don’t feel bad about him playing a part, because you, baby, were part of me. Me and Issy, and that is something that I cherish and hold dear.

So, I won’t raise a glass to you tonight as I’m up ridiculously early for work, but I will look at your scan photo, like I do each night, and be happy that at least I got to feel you for seven weeks and three days. 

Timings and circumstances doesn’t stop maternal instincts, and it doesn’t stop the pain, either. 


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